almost touching the whippoorwill
an oak tree’s newest mouth
A linked-verse sequence.
There’s no denying the appeal of dead trees: they look more human.
another spring house phoebe
taking the sky for a ride
the trees must store these shadows
just as the sun comes out a killdeer’s cry
from the ridgetop pines
a long sigh
a timberdoodle’s high fluttery whistle
a dog in the valley
adds its voice
ice falling from the trees over here